Last Dance, Final Chance
by xBleedingBlackRosex
Summary: Is it worth it, to fall in love for only one night? The grand masquerade at Dalton Mansion will be their final chance to enjoy themselves as free men one last time before the foreboding law is put into place...
1. Chapter 1

**Yelah insisted this be written. I resisted. But, as usual, she won. I gave in when I attempted to write more of 'Puppy Love' and ended up with five pages of ****_this_****. Enjoy!**

…

"Come on, Kurt, you have to go!"

"No, Mercedes, I really don't."

"But it's your last night of freedom!"

"Your point being?"

"You deserve to enjoy yourself!"

Kurt sighed heavily. "Okay, let's just get something very clear, Mercedes. The law is going to be put into place this Saturday. Four days from now. And when it is, I'm not going to be allowed to be _myself_ anymore! I'm not going to be able to date. I'm not going to be able to marry. I'm not going to be able to flirt, or be flirted with. I'm not going to be able to so much as _look_ at another man without raising suspicion." He finally turned to meet his best friend's gaze. "What point is there in going to this ball?"

Her eyes shone with unshed tears of sympathy. "Because...Because...That's exactly _why_ you need to go, though! Because the rest of your life is going to be pretty hard. And you should go to this masquerade, and meet people who support you, and dance with all the cute boys, and have the time of your life so that whenever someone gives you a hard time, you'll be able to look back on that night and remember you're not alone."

Kurt sighed. "I'll think about it."

…

Despite his misgivings, Kurt found himself at the mall on Wednesday afternoon, looking for something he might wear to the ball over in Westerville that Friday. He wasn't having much luck. The stores he used to shop at the most were already shut down or conformed. Anything "too gay" had to go.

"I'd go with the blue."

He jumped at the voice over his shoulder. A handsome young man, with short, dark curls and gentle hazel eyes, was smiling at him.

"I- What?"

"The ties," the stranger clarified, pointing at the two skinny ties Kurt had been comparing – one a light blue, the other a royal purple. "If I were you I'd go with the blue. Matches your eyes..."

Kurt blushed, and stared down intently at the periwinkle piece of silk in order to avoid meeting his gaze, which he could feel piercing into his neck. _Don't. Don't assume. Don't react._ "Um, thank you."

"Any special occasion?" The other man stepped forward, chatting as if they were old acquaintances.

"N-No!" Kurt stuttered immediately. He nearly dropped the neckties. "No, nothing- nothing special, no."

Mr. Curly Hair chuckled. "Oh dear," he murmured under his breath, so that only Kurt could hear him. "You're not a very good liar, now are you? That might get you into trouble, come Saturday..."

Kurt gasped. He took a step back, away from him.

"Oh don't worry," he continued easily. "I am, too. I won't turn you in or something like that." He rolled his eyes and scoffed. Clearly he was not a fan of the new legislation either.

"You- You mean you're-?"

"Gay?" That beautiful smile widened. "As a unicorn, yes. There's a ball this Friday at Dalton Mansion, actually – I thought that might have been what you were shopping for."

Kurt bowed his head, feeling a little guilty for thinking he was going to be reported. The law wasn't even in place yet. "I- I don't know if I'm going."

Sir Dreamy Eyes laughed and shrugged. "Well, that's your choice, I suppose." He turned, as if to leave, but then added, "Can I at least know your name?"

Kurt hesitated only for a second. "Kurt."

"Kurt..." he repeated carefully. Then he grinned. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Kurt!"

"Don't I get to know yours?"

The stranger paused, flashing a sly smirk over his shoulder. "Of course! If you go to the ball..."

And with that, he was gone.

…

Friday night came far too soon, and yet at the same time couldn't come fast enough. After a little more coaxing, Mercedes finally managed to convince him to go. She was going to accompany him, along with Tina, Quinn, Santana and Brittany (their last outing as a couple), and Rachel. Even the guys – Finn, Puck, Artie, and Mike – were going.

"You look incredible," Tina gushed, latching onto Kurt's arm.

"Seriously, White Boy! You look hot," agreed Mercedes, taking his other.

"Thank you, my dears," Kurt smiled. He had on fitted black pants, a long-sleeved white undershirt, a dark silver vest, that blue skinny tie he couldn't _not_ buy, a black top hat adorned with blue peacock feathers, and a matching black and blue feathered mask that sparkled in the moonlight. His friends were equally dolled up and masked.

"Remember, Kurt, you've got to be back at the car by midnight," Finn reminded seriously. "I don't want to give the cops any reason to send you away or lock you up."

"I know," Kurt sighed. "It's not like I'm going to get raving drunk or something. You _know_ I have a nonexistent alcohol tolerance."

Finn chuckled and clapped a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Have fun on your last night of freedom, bro!"

Kurt nodded once stiffly before leading the way inside.

…

Blaine scanned the crowd once again.

"Dude, he may not even show up!" David pointed out, slinging back another mouthful of the spiked punch. He swayed a bit on his feet. "Wha's he look like ag'n?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Well, not that it will _help_, considering this is a _masquerade_, but he's tall, with short brown hair, and gorgeous blue-green-gray-_everything_ eyes, basically a supermodel..."

David snorted. "You're right, that didn't help at all."

Just then Wes pushed his way over to them. "Alright, everything's set," he breathed, grinning at Blaine. "Your flight leaves at 3:21. Try to travel light; I'll ship the rest of your stuff after you."

"Thanks _so_ much for doing all this." Blaine pulled him in for a bone-breaking hug.

Wes chuckled. "Anything for you, man. This law is completely whack. You've got to get out. Everything is already in boxes, right?"

"Right," Blaine confirmed. "Just need to be addressed..."

David jabbed him in the ribs. "Dude! Check _them_ out!"

Blaine turned to the head of the stairs, and his jaw dropped. If he'd looked around, he would have seen many others do the same. A group of mixed company had just arrived, the ladies in gorgeous ball gowns, the boys in handsome tuxes. Many approving gazes were drawn to them as they descended the grand staircase to the dance floor.

But Blaine's eyes were fixated on one young man in particular.

A young man with a thin blue tie.

"Who're they?" David muttered, screwing up his face as he struggled to remember if he'd ever seen them before. "I can' see th'r faces...I don' recog- reckin- I don't know 'em."

Wes snickered into his palm. "David, you're completely smashed! Come on, let's get you some fresh air...Here, give me that drink...Let's go."

He gave Blaine a parting smile before half-dragging the wasted boy outside, towards the garden. Blaine watched – trying not to seem like too much of a creeper – as the tall, lean teenage boy in a top hat and black-and-blue feathered mask began to dance with a couple of the girls he'd arrived with. His movements were shy at first. Restrained. But soon enough, he seemed to relax and go with it, twirling his friends, swaying his hips to the beat, singing along, laughing. Every now and then Blaine would get a flash of dazzling blue shining like beacons out of that shimmering feather mask. They were enrapturing. He found himself craning his neck to keep the brunette in sight as dancers moved passed his vision.

_Just go ask him to dance!_ he ordered himself. _It can't do any harm. You'll never get a chance like this again. What do I have to lose?_

Steeling himself, he straightened his mask and wove his way across the dance floor just as the popular fast-beat song was ending. A new, slower ballad took its place. Hoping that it was a good sign, he reached out and tapped Kurt gently on the shoulder.

"May I have this dance?"

Blaine could see the exact moment Kurt recognized him. It took a second – Blaine's face was partially covered as well, after all – but when he did, those glasz eyes positively lit up.

"You may," he murmured, grinning as he slipped his hand into Blaine's, both of them unaware of the light teasing and excited murmuring coming from the two girls Kurt had previously been dancing with. The boys were already lost in their own little world.

Blaine led Kurt a few steps away, before slipping his hands around the taller man's thin waist. Kurt rested his own arms at Blaine's neck. The two of them fell effortlessly into the dance floor's slow, swaying rhythm. All around them, boys danced with boys, boys danced with girls, and girls danced with girls. Nobody even batted an eye as they joined in. They weren't judged here; it was a night of acceptance within that ballroom.

"So do I get to know your name now?" Kurt reminded softly, mouth so close to Blaine's ear he could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. He shivered from the sensation. It was almost unnerving how much Kurt's proximity affected him.

"Blaine," he provided with a smile. "Blaine Anderson."

"Pleasure to meet you. Again."

They both laughed. Blaine could feel himself relaxing, his muscles loosening, drawing a bit closer to his dance partner. "I'm glad you came. You look _stunning_, Kurt."

The pale boy smirked, but even in the multihued lights flickering across the room, Blaine could still tell that Kurt was blushing. "It's the tie."

Blaine chuckled. It was most definitely _not_ the tie.

"You look really nice, too," Kurt added. "Armani...Very classy."

He grinned, glancing down at the black suit jacket, left open to show the blood-red button-up underneath that exposed just a hint of skin at his collar. It was not normally something he would wear, but it was his last night of freedom in America; he decided he might as well be a little adventurous.

"How did you hear about this dance?" Kurt inquired quietly.

"I'm actually good friends with the son of Mr. Dalton himself," he revealed. "He's always been very outspoken about gay rights. We sometimes joked that _he_ was more upset by the law than _I_ was!"

Kurt laughed again. The sound was hypnotic.

"And you?" Blaine asked.

"One of my best friends, Mercedes, she heard about it from Rachel – they were the two girls I was dancing with earlier – and _insisted_ that I come. Rachel has two gay dads; she heard from them. Although I suppose, starting tomorrow, they'll just be 'friendly roommates.'" The biting tone made it very clear what he thought of the lie. Blaine understood completely. He didn't know a single member of the queer community or their allies that approved of the new law. How it managed to pass was still a mystery to him.

"I'm glad I won't have to deal with America's utter idiocy for much longer," he muttered.

Kurt's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving," he clarified. "To Canada. Mr. Dalton has a summerhouse in Vancouver. I'm moving there early tomorrow morning." Then, with a wistful afterthought, he added, "Same-sex marriage is legal in Canada, you know..."

Kurt's face fell. "I wish I could just leave," he sighed.

"Why don't you?"

"My father's still recovering from a heart attack," he confessed. "He's in no condition to travel, and I could never leave him alone, especially when he needs me so much." He shrugged, but Blaine could tell that he was far more depressed than he let on. "So I guess I'll just have to hide my sequin jackets and throw out anything pink or rainbow and pray my hips don't sway too much when I walk down the street. Someday, though, when dad's finally up to moving, I'm getting out of here. I don't know where yet...Maybe Canada, now that you mention it...Shouldn't be too tricky. Only a few hours' drive..."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine whispered. And he honestly was. "I wish I could help..."

The song faded to an end. Blaine moved to release him, albeit reluctantly, but Kurt kept his arms locked around him. "One more dance?" Kurt requested.

Blaine beamed widely. "With pleasure."

…

They ended up dancing together for another three songs. When it became too warm and crowded on the dance floor, Blaine invited Kurt to take a stroll through the garden, and Kurt happily accepted. As they moved towards the door leading outside, he caught Mercedes' eye from over by the punch and waved. She winked and waggled her fingers back at him.

It was significantly cooler outside, which was a refreshing change. The dark skies stretched above them endlessly, freckled with stars, blotted by large gray clouds, the full moon lighting their way down the cobblestone path. Without even really thinking about it, their hands intertwined as they wove idly through the maze of flora.

"I used to play here all the time as a child," Blaine revealed, gazing nostalgically around at the familiar gardens. "Wes and I stayed out here for _hours_ on end. I'm pretty sure I spent more time here at Dalton than I did at home..."

"Wes?"

"Mr. Dalton's son," he clarified. "Wesley Montgomery. He's adopted," he added, when Kurt's eyebrows drew together in confusion from the different surnames. "Wes's parents died when he was still a toddler. Mr. Dalton was a close family friend of the Montgomerys; he took him in. And when Wes and I became close friends, Mr. Dalton sort of took me in as well..."

Kurt noticed his sad little smile. "Won't you miss it?"

"Oh, yes, without a doubt," Blaine nodded. They drew up to one of the regal stone fountains and perked on the ledge, shoulder-to-shoulder to conserve heat. "After tomorrow, I won't be able to come back here. Not unless the law is repealed, and that doesn't seem very likely in any near future."

"No, it doesn't," Kurt agreed, frustration clear in his voice. The queer community really only had three options – leave the country, hide their sexualities, or stay true to themselves and get thrown into jail for it. Kurt had opted for the second. "But, I mean, your friends and family will still be able to visit you, right?"

"That's true," Blaine allowed, perking up a bit at the thought. But then his expression turned somber again. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I have no right to complain. You, on the other hand-"

Kurt shook his head. "Don't," he stopped him firmly. "I'll be fine. I may despise the concept of lying about myself, but my acting skills and my sense of self-preservation aren't too shabby. I'll survive. And then, one day, when my dad is healthy enough, I'll get out of here. I'll become a famous singer, or actor, or fashion designer, and then I'll use my impressive influence and connections to fight this stupid law and get it repealed for good."

Blaine grinned. "I'm sure you will, Kurt." And he wasn't being condescending; the passion and determination in Kurt's voice made him very sure that it would happen. Someday. "And when you do, and your name goes down in the history books as the one to destroy all homophobia in the world, I sincerely hope you'll remember me."

Kurt beamed and nudged his shoulder gently with his own. "Oh, I fully intend on crashing at your place in Canada when this is all over!"

Blaine burst out laughing. "Sounds like a plan. I'll be waiting."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, gazing up at the gathering clouds, listening to the rustle of leaves and the steady trickle from the fountain, both lost in their own thoughts of the future. Neither of them knew what was to come, or if they'd ever see each other again, but the possibility seemed unlikely. Still, they hoped. They hoped that the law would be repealed. They hoped that the world would finally accept them. They hoped that they would one day meet again.

They sat there, under the dark, foreboding sky, and they hoped.

…

The night flew by, far too quickly for their liking, full of dancing and talking and walks through the garden when they became too overheated. Mercedes found them out by the terrace to warn Kurt that it was a quarter to midnight. He introduced her to Blaine, before she retreated back indoors with a knowing wink, leaving behind a blushing Kurt and a chortling Blaine.

"I'm glad you came tonight," Blaine said suddenly.

Kurt blinked. "Me, too."

Blaine pulled out a pen from his pocket and scribbled something down on his napkin. "This is my address in Canada," he explained, handing it to Kurt. "If you end up deciding to move to Vancouver...Feel free to look me up. I would be more than happy to help you in any way I can."

Kurt smiled brightly and pocketed the napkin. He could hear the sincerity in Blaine's voice. He knew that Blaine would follow through on his promise if need be. "Thank you. I will be sure to keep that in mind."

They stared at each other for a beat.

"I should go..." Kurt whispered regretfully. He flashed a morose little smile before turning and heading towards the door leading back into the ballroom.

"No, please," Blaine practically begged, reaching out and catching Kurt's wrist. "Stay? For just a bit longer? I..." _I'll miss you._

Kurt bit his lip, clearly pondering it, but then shook his head. "I want you to remember me as a free man, Blaine. Not as a lie."

"At least-" Blaine tried again, and Kurt paused. "At least let me see you...One more time, without the mask on. Please?"

Kurt's hand jumped to the feathered accessory covering half his face, the tip of his ring finger tracing the bottom edge, almost teasing Blaine with the motion. "No," he decided, though, and Blaine's face fell. Kurt took both of Blaine's hands in his own and gazed determinately into his bright hazel eyes. "Blaine, when we- When the people who are going to be staying in America...When we take off our masks in the morning, we won't be ourselves anymore. We'll still have masks on. If I take _this_ mask off now, I don't know if I'll be able to put _that_ mask on at midnight..."

Blaine smiled sadly and pulled Kurt in for a warm, gentle hug. "I understand..." he murmured.

Kurt clung to him tightly. Tears sprung to his eyes. "Goodbye, Blaine," he whispered.

His lips brushed Blaine's cheek, and then he disappeared.

…

The car was dead quiet as they piled in shortly after the stroke of midnight rang out across Dalton's grounds. Finn maneuvered Kurt's car carefully down the long driveway, through the gates, and out onto the main street. He had not questioned Kurt when the younger boy had handed him the keys and commanded him to drive. Kurt probably could have asked him to crawl home on his hands and knees and he would have done it. _Anything_ to rid Kurt of that haunting frown.

"How was your night, sweetie?" Mercedes asked tentatively. She and Tina sat on either side of him in the back, pressed close, waiting for him to break so that they could piece him back together.

He sniffed, nose red, eyes shining with unshed tears. When he spoke, his voice wavered. "It was wonderful..."

His head came down to rest on Mercedes' shoulder. She stroked his hair and pressed kisses to his forehead and just let him cry, because there was nothing else she could do. He was no longer a free man. He was a ghost, a mere shadow of the boy he'd been, and there was no way to get him back now.

So the rest of them did not speak the entire car ride home, the silence broken only by Kurt's heart-shattering sobs.

…

**I have no justification for this. Feel free to hate me. I know I do. I'm just gonna go cry myself to sleep now...-forest in my eye-**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	2. Epilogue

**Okay so I made too many people cry with this fic (including myself). So here's a little epilogue to make it all better!**

…

Blaine took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out slowly.

He couldn't believe he was actually back. Back in America, back in Ohio, back in Westerville, back in the same apartment he'd moved out of two years ago without any intention of returning. Yet here he was, unpacking his things into the same exact places they'd been prior to his escape to Canada. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. Relieved? Nostalgic? Sad? Excited?

"Hey, man, you almost ready?" Wes called from the living room, where he had just finished hanging up Blaine's pictures on the wall for him. "The ball's about to start any minute!"

"Calm down, Wes, we both know it doesn't _really_ start for at least an hour." Blaine grabbed his coat and flipping off the bedroom light as he left. Spotting David rearranging the silverware drawer for the second time, he added, "David, they're just forks and spoons. They can handle a little disorganization. Let's go."

David shook his head but followed him out into the living room. "One day you're going to find somebody who'll love you enough to move in with you, and they're going to be _distraught_ when they see the state of your cutlery."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure he'll break up with me on the spot." Blaine rolled his eyes and ushered his friends – both smirking – out the door before him. In truth, he'd sort of missed their teasing. Their letters had been welcomed, of course, and he kept them all, but there was something about them that could not be properly conveyed in writing. Even their phone calls were limited. It was just nice to talk to them face-to-face.

As they all piled into Wes' car, David turned to Blaine and said, "You know, you're going to have to visit your parents at some point. I'm sure they know by now that you've returned."

Blaine sighed. "I will, I will...But not tonight. Tonight is a night of celebration! My parents can wait."

"Here, here!" Wes cheered. "And who knows, maybe you'll find The One again..."

"The One?" Blaine echoed blankly.

"Oh, yes, The One!" David caught on, his smile playful. "Don't you remember? That boy you met at the masquerade? Just before the law-that-must-not-be-spoken-of was put into place? Perhaps he'll be at this one as well!"

"Oh...him," Blaine murmured, so quietly it was almost to himself.

He had not forgotten about Kurt. To be honest, he had thought about him during his time up in Canada more times than was probably healthy. Not that he would ever admit that. The beautiful boy – and when he thought of him, he could only remember his masked form; his real face had faded from his memory, much to his chagrin – would float into his consciousness every now and then, without warning, and he would wonder how he was doing. Was his father any better? Did the officials catch him? How was he coping with the regulations? Did he ever move away? Without any way to answer the questions, though, he'd repeatedly pushed them from his mind.

Now, at the prospect of seeing him once again, he could not deny the fluttering in his stomach. _Don't get your hopes up_, he warned himself. _Even if, by some chance, he does attend this evening's ball...He may not even remember me. It's been two years, after all..._

"Blaine? Blaine, are you even listening to us?"

He jolted in his seat. "Oh, I'm sorry! I was...lost in thought."

"I'll say," David chuckled.

"Thinking about The One?" Wes jeered, leaning over to poke Blaine's side. He squirmed away, laughing.

"Will you stop referring to him like that?" He rolled his eyes. "You make him sound like some sort of god..."

"Well, that's kind of how you described him to me," David pointed out cheerfully from the backseat. "I mean, seriously, I was _smashed_ at that party, but I still remember that silly lovestruck expression on your face. Which was adorable!" he quickly added at Blaine's murderous glance back at him.

Wes pulled into the already car-lined driveway of Dalton Mansion. "Thank goodness Father thought to add that parking area around back," he said. "It looks like the turn-out is going to be even greater this time!" He swerved into his reserved spot close to the door and cut the engine. The three of them piled out into the breezy early-summer evening.

The house was as regal as ever. Blaine's memory had not done it justice; everything seemed far more welcoming, more enchanting. He couldn't help but pause for a moment outside the entranceway and take in the high arches and columns, as if for the first time.

"Blaine, come on, you haven't been gone _that_ long," Wes mocked, forcing him inside. David made a beeline for the punch bowl. Wes called after him, "Save some for the other guests, you goon!"

Blaine chuckled. The ballroom, as grand as ever, was already beginning to fill up. Although no masks were involved this time, everyone was still dolled up in their evening best. It made for a joyful, colorful scene. It was almost as if the last couple of years of struggle and suppression had never happened. The law was destroyed. Everyone was once again free to be themselves. There was still much progress to be made before they reached complete equality, but at least homosexuality was no longer a punishable crime in the eye of the law. That was something. The rest, Blaine was sure, would come in due time.

"Is he here?"

Blaine turned to his friend curiously. The suggestive raised eyebrow told him all he needed to know. He scoffed. "You're awful, Wes. Why are you pushing this? I haven't seen him in over two years. I doubt he'd remember me, even if by some chance he _does_ come tonight."

"You want him to, though, right?"

He about-faced with a dramatic sigh and slowly made his way over to David, who was hitting on a couple of girls Blaine was almost certain were lesbians. Not that he would tell David that, of course. "Yes, of course I do. He was...extraordinary. So handsome, and kind, and strong, and-" He caught Wes' smirk. "Oh, shut up!"

"You, my friend, are hopeless," Wes proclaimed jovially, slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him towards the buffet table at the other end of the room. "Come, let's eat! There's a great view of the stairs from here..."

"If I didn't know any better I would say you and David were trying to set me up!" Blaine joked, although there was a hint of truth to it. "Trying to get me off your hands as quickly as possible, eh?"

"Eh?" Wes echoed, snorting. "Spent too long in Canada, I think!" He waved a hand airily and ate a cream puff whole, ignoring Blaine's faux-indignation. "We just want to see you happy, man. And the happiest we've seen you in a long while was when you were with him..."

"You haven't seen me in a long while, _period_," Blaine pointed out. But he knew that Wes would not be deterred. It was true, after all – he _had_ been happy when he was with Kurt. If they'd been able to spend more time with each other, gotten to know one another better, he would not have been surprised if they'd ended up dating. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he was-"

"Here!"

Blaine frowned. "What?"

Following Wes' gaze over his shoulder, Blaine turned towards the staircase, where many other pairs of eyes had fallen as well.

A familiar group had paused at the top, scanning the scene below, dressed so eloquently they couldn't help but draw attention. Comprised mostly of girls in long, shimmering gowns, there were still a few men amongst the small cluster, dressed in handsome suits and tuxes. They could have all very well just walked off the red carpet.

The tall, thin brunette at the front caught Blaine's eye, and his face lit up. Blaine felt his heart stutter in his chest.

_Oh lord. How could I have ever forgotten that face?_

He was even more beautiful now, if that were possible. Perfectly coiffed chestnut locks; pale, flawless skin; long limbs, a tiny waist, and strong shoulders; eyes that danced across the spectrum of colors without concept of boundaries.

"Kurt..." he breathed, almost subconsciously.

"Kurt! _That's_ what his name was!"

Wes then gave Blaine a less than gentle shove towards the stairs, down which the newest arrivals were descending. "Go on, then!"

Blaine could not take his eyes off of the gorgeous young man as he gradually drew nearer, and he was pleased to note that Kurt was equally enthralled. A shy smile flickered across his features. Blaine felt himself beam in return.

They met at the foot of the stairs, Kurt's friends immediately disappearing into the growing throng on the dance floor. Kurt stayed, though. Stayed and waited for Blaine to say something, to make the first move.

Blaine swallowed to soothe his suddenly dry throat and said the only thing that came to mind.

"You look incredible, Kurt."

His face broke into a grin. "As do you," he returned, eyes flickering up and down Blaine's body as he said it. "I'm impressed you even remember me, honestly...It's been so long..."

"I could never forget you," Blaine assured without thinking. Then he paused, and blushed. _Smooth_, he chastised himself. _Very smooth. Scare him away why don't you?_ He gave a nervous little laugh. "Sorry, that didn't come out right..."

Kurt giggled. "I'm flattered. Good to know I'm memorable..." He glanced over to the French doors that led outside. "Um, do you maybe want to...take a walk? With me?"

Blaine smiled broadly and offered his arm. "It would be my pleasure."

They wove their way through the crowd and out onto the terrace. Without even having to discuss it, they headed for the garden. The night was warmer than last time, but still cool enough that they had an excuse to draw closer together.

"How was Canada?" Kurt asked, glancing sideways at Blaine as if hesitant about bringing up such a topic. Blaine couldn't imagine why.

"It was lovely," Blaine smiled. "I mean, it was no Dalton Mansion, but it was nice. I had a steady job, the neighbors were pleasant, I didn't die...I consider that a success!" He chuckled. After a pause, he decided to throw caution to the wind and just take the plunge. "How-...How was it? Here? For you?"

Kurt pursed his lips, and something cold crept into his eyes. Blaine could practically see the dark memories cloud his mind. "I cannot put into words how glad I am those days are behind us all. It was..." He shuddered delicately. "It was not as pleasant as Vancouver."

Blaine guided Kurt to the same fountain they'd sat at two years ago. They relaxed shoulder-to-shoulder on the edge, the faint spray of mist drifting over them and giving them a perfect reason to lean into one another.

"It wasn't too bad at first," Kurt began. He had taken one of Blaine's hands in both of his and began to play with his fingers, seemingly subconsciously. Blaine let him. "I just kept telling myself that I was lucky – I still had my dad, and my friends, and nobody had turned me in or anything...The bullying stopped for the most part because no one wanted to be associated with me. I had a pretty good cover up...I had a fake girlfriend, I was on the football team, I worked at my dad's garage, I did everything I had to do. But...it was _awful_. It- It was all a lie! I had to constantly be on alert. See a cute guy – run the other way. Find a fabulous jacket – drop it and walk in the opposite direction. I wasn't..._me_."

"I'm so sorry..." Blaine murmured.

Kurt gave him a sad little smile. "By the second year, I thought I was going to go insane. My dad kept telling me to just drive up to Vancouver and find you. I was tempted, too. But..." He sighed heavily. "He needed me, even though he wouldn't admit it. He had made me promise that we'd come up as soon as his doctor signed off on it."

"I'm assuming, since you never graced my Canadian doorstep, that his doctor has yet to sign off on it?"

Kurt blinked rapidly, and Blaine was startled to realize that he was holding back tears. "No. No, my dad- he, um...He had another attack. He...He didn't make it this time."

Blaine felt his own heart drop like a stone.

He instantly wanted to reach out and draw Kurt into his arms and never let go, to kiss away the pain and heal the wounds he knew Kurt endured. But he was numb; he couldn't move. _His dad is dead?_ He had no idea how to even respond to that, how to make it better. And he already knew that Kurt had lost his mother at eight years old. _He's an orphan now..._The thought made Blaine want to cry. He could not even comprehend what Kurt must be feeling. He could not imagine losing his own parents, or Mr. Dalton...

"When did-...?" he started, but he cut himself off and dropped his gaze to his knees. He did not want to ask anything insensitively.

Kurt's fingers flexed around his briefly.

"Three months ago. Two weeks after my nineteenth birthday."

Blaine nodded. That would mean Kurt's father passed away in late May, or early April. A thought struck him, and he blurted it out without premeditation. "Are you in school?"

The edges of Kurt's lips twitched. The brightness in his eyes had faded. This was safer ground, apparently. "I graduated last year. I decided to go to Ohio State for a year, so that I could be closer in case there was a change in my dad's health status – good or bad – but I'd promised him I would go to New York this fall no matter what physical state he was in. I actually got my acceptance letter to the New York Academy for the Dramatic Arts only a few days before his- his attack. At least he was around for that..." He gave a minuscule smile, and this one seemed slightly more genuine. "I debated staying here. It didn't seem right to run off to a different state so soon after his death. But..." He took a deep breath. "This is what he would have wanted. He would have wanted me to pursue my dreams and continue my education."

"Do you plan on moving permanently? To New York?" Blaine couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know," Kurt mused, beginning to trace patterns into Blaine's palm with a fingertip. "Carol is keeping the house – she's my step-mom," he reminded when Blaine looked confused.

"Oh, right." He remembered Kurt mentioning her and her son during the masquerade. He was relieved; that meant Kurt wasn't totally alone in all of this.

"And Finn's staying at Ohio State, so they'll continue living here...I suppose I'll be coming back for the major holidays at least. New York isn't _that_ far of a drive."

Kurt leaned against his shoulder and sighed, but it was not an unhappy sound. If Blaine wasn't mistaken, he seemed almost...relaxed. Or at least content. He melted inside. It felt _right_ to have Kurt curled into his side like this. He felt at home, comfortable, at ease.

Which was silly, considering the fact that they'd only ever really talked a few times over the course of two years. Two long and painful years.

"What about you?" Kurt interrupted his thoughts before they could get out of hand.

"Well, I finished up college at the University of British Columbia. Majored in business, minored in music – I know, strange combination – and I just finished moving back into my old apartment. I've got a few job opportunities...Some music producers want to team up, there are a couple agency spots open...Haven't quite decided what I want to do, though, yet."

Kurt nodded. The movement made his hair tickle Blaine's cheek. Without really making the conscious decision to do so, Blaine slid a loose arm around Kurt's waist. The brunette leaned in still closer. They were now pressed right up against one another. There was no way either of them could blame their proximity on the weather. Neither of them cared. "Would any of those job opportunities happen to be in New York, by any chance?"

Blaine knew exactly what he was implying, and it thrilled him. "Yes, as a matter of fact..." Kurt sat up to look him in the eye, and he could not miss the hope that sparked across his face. "But for now, we both have a long summer stretched out ahead of us here in Ohio. Let's make the most of it, shall we?"

Kurt grinned and once more relaxed into Blaine's side.

"We shall."

…

**Oh god. I killed Burt.**

**But hopefully it was fluffy enough to ease the pain! Blame my subconscious, Yelah. She demanded something at least semi-angsty. Somehow my mind equivocated that to ****_death_****. Oy vey...**

**Don't forget to review! :) I'm trying to get back into the habit of responding to all (or at least the vast majority of) my reviews...If you want to rage about my offing Burt, my ask box on Tumblr (rippleklainebagels) is open ;)**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


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